Loving the Devil
by LadyPalma
Summary: Isaac really loved Cruella, but he just loved the angel behind the devil. What if episode 4x18 ended differently? What if Cruella and Isaac had a second chance together? This time though, he has to learn to love not only the angel, but the Devil as well... [Authella all the way]
1. Facing the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 1: Facing the Devil**

"_There's more than a way to skin an author_"

She had threatened him, she had tried to seduce him, she had simply asked gently what she wanted: they all turned out to be vain attempts, but that last sentence stressed the fact that her confidence was still untouched. Surely it couldn't have been said that she didn't know how to leave the scene. However, before her hand reached the handle of the door, Isaac's voice kept her in her place.

"I really loved you, Cruella"

The tone was bitter, but more than suffering, he seemed willing to make her suffer. The woman remained still for some moments, while a sincerely surprised expression appared on her face, joined with a rare melancholic smile. Nevertheless, she didn't allow the man to see it and when she finally turned around, her look only conveyed contempt.

"Really? Then you have always been a fool…" she answered, letting a sharp chuckle escape her lips. "You can't fall in love with someone you just met, most of all when you don't know her very well, darling…"

Isaac made a sad smile and in the meantime, despite the fear he felt anyway, moved some steps toward her. It was true – he had been a fool, indeed. He didn't act different from Shakespeare's naive Miranda, who fell in love with the first man she had seen; but for him the world didn't turn out to be the "_brave new world_" he had been dreaming about while reading, that experience only made him knowing the absurdly angelic face of the devil.

He should have been satisfied with just reading _The Tempest_, instead of turning his whole life into a tempest.

He remembered, though; and those memories were too solid hooks to a still real feeling.

"Your surprised expression, your sparkling big blue eyes, your smile and when we danced, I…"

But Cruella wasn't listening anymore, because for her all of that didn't have any value; there wasn't anything real about that night – except maybe the little confusion after tasting gin for the first time.

"Oh, poor puppy… And yet, I would have expected you to become the new Beaudelaire after such a disappointment"

She was looking at him with an amusement pity, as if he was the most pathetic man in the world – and in the meantime she had absorbed all his vital energy: the comparison with the _maudit poete _did exist after all. It wasn't him making her who she was, it was rather the contrary. Isaac never knew about disappointment, pain, heartbreak, before meeting Cruella: he lived for the first and only time with her – and he found out that life was actually suffering.

There was a long silence, during which they simply looked at each other – at a safe distance, of course. Cruella was completely changed physically and now she was appearing in her real essence; and yet those eyes – so different yet still the same – were killing him just like many years before.

"If only you had wanted, I would have ranaway with you!" he insisted, wallowing a little more in a parallel story never written. "Even if you were a psycho killer, even if you-"

"Oh, but really?"

A sudden surge of anger interrupted the passionate confession. Her irritation was back and it was embodying the shape of an unexpected fury. She was annoyed by that late love declaration, but not much because of love itself – which at most could have provoked her amusement – but most because it wasn't true at all.

"Stop playing the part of the helpless puppy, Isaac! You never loved me!"

The author widened his eyes out of surpise and, confused by the unexpected objection, he remained silent for a while.

"Of course I loved you" he replied eventually.

But the calmness of the answer just made the animals witch's anger grow.

"No, you didn't. I perfectly remember the terrified and disgusted look you had when I told you about what I did to my mother… You just loved an angel that never existed."

Isaac looked at her even more confused. The accusation was actually inconsistent: he did love that angel he danced with and he would have loved it for ever even if it was just a fragile illusion; he would have loved it even if it was just a very little part behind the devil. But of course he always love just that – the angel behind the devil.

"What should I have done? Love you for your madness?" he provoked her with an ironic tone. "No one could ever love a devil because it's a devil"

Those last words were unwillingly and unexpectedly the only ones to hurt her somehow. Maybe, in spite of everything, being loved for what she actually was, was the only thing she ever asked. She moved again toward the door; only when she reached it, she gave him a strange look that almost seemed sorry. A weak bitter smile completed that expression.

"Exactly. No one ever could"

Before the man could reply, she was already gone with the same furious rush as always.

Maybe she didn't leave the scene as she wanted, but for the first time she didn't raise fear, contempt, balme… Instead she just left behind her an unpredictable depraved _sympathy for the devil_.

* * *

**Hello! Here I am again, this time with an Authella story. I really like the idea of this ship and I think they sort of deserve a second chance - and also a fanfic. Hope you liked the start, I'd like to know what you think about it:)**

**See you soon!**


	2. Saving the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 2: Saving the Devil**

Cruella was harmless: it sounded strange to describe with this word the devil, but she actually was. She was so harmless that, despite the fact that she had a gun with her, she should have been the one to fear for her life; she could have died and the Savior would have turned dark: here it was one of the possible ending of the story. But Isaac could prevent it, he had to, he wanted to.

"I just wanted to save the world from Cruella"

That's what he said to the Charmings when they entered in a sudden rush the Dark One's cabin, trying to get the truth out of him. He didn't hide it: he showed the page he had written about Cruella, said something about the consequences of what was probably already happening, and then did something that surprised himself. He asked for help.

"I just wanted to save the world from Cruella" he said again and in his tone there was a begging note now. "But now we have to save Cruella from the world"

And then suddenly he stopped talking and started running. According to his deal with the Dark one, according to the cinism he had gained during all those years, that decision seemed almost absurd - but it wasn't a decision after all, since his brain was completely on stand-by.

"_Don't let her die. Please, please, please don't let her die_": that's all that was in his mind at that moment, filtered by the memory of Hemingway's _A Farewell To Arms_. It was absurd indeed, but he didn't want her to die, not now, not like that, not… ever. Because there was something he had forgotten to tell her during their last meeting: not only he had loved her in the past, but he still did. Maybe in the wrong way – but he did.

He was running through the woods and it was as if he magically knew where to go. It wasn't written anywhere yet how the story should have ended and for the first time Isaac could have intervened without his precious pen. It was the second time in his life that he was separating himself from the relationship with a piece of paper, and for the second time it was because of Cruella De Vil.

"Stop, Emma! Cruella can't harm Henry!"

Isaac couldn't tell who had shouted that sentence first – if himself or one of the two Charmings; but surely he was the first to arrive and, luckily, on time. Cruella glared at him, keeping drawing the gun on the boy. However, the man didn't care about it and instead focused all his attention on the Savior.

"Emma, let her go…" he repente, cautiously moving some steps toward her.

The blonde finally turned to him, letting show the expression of pure fury on her face. He already could see that dark side coming out, but he was confident that it wouldn't have ended that way. The shining magic in her hands, that almost diabolic look and the lost expression: no one could do anything no more, it was all on her to choose now.

"Don't worry, darling, she won't kill me. She's a hero and heroes don't kill"

It sounded quite ironic how, after a short but intense silence, it was Cruella the one to suggest the right choice. Sure, she had pronounced those words just to provoke her, but they had a certain worth anyway. Emma looked back at her and remained for some moments still just staring at her; then, she suddenly shook her head as if she was awakening from a night mare and let the flow of magic weakening in her hands. Only then, she hit the other woman, with an intensity sufficient only to make her temporarily pass out.

Here it was the epilogue of the story: the Savior as a hero, in the arms of her son and her parents, and the animals witch laying unconscius at some distance from the cliff. Angelically asleep and gloriously alive – in the flesh _and fur_.

* * *

If that had been a fairytale, Isaac would have bent on her and kissed her; but he was no prince and certaintly she was no princess, so he just kept staring at her red lips, whose taste could only be immagined. It was him who had taken her away from the woods and led her to her room at Granny's, then he had sat on the bed, just waiting for her to wake up. His only company had been _The Great Gatsby_, even if his own Daisy was more cruel than the one in the story; actually Cruella was no daisy at all, if anything a _poisoned bluebell_. However the reading was over when the woman's eyes finally opened.

"Mmm I've never actually liked this place, but I never thought that Hell would have been an inn…"

With that ironic sentence, Cruella came back to life, even if the face she made when she tried to lift her head let understand that it was a painful return.

Isaac hid his deep relief with an amused smile and approached her, totally forgetting Fitzgerald.

"Unluckily for the world, you are not dead Cruella"

The woman slightly shook her head and finally, after a new attempt, she managed to sit up and lean her back against the wall. She closed her eyes and that moment of darkness was enough to call back out her last memories from total black out. The escape into the woods with Henry, the Savior's threat, Isaac's arrival… Every detail strongly surfaced in her mind, so much that she found herself suddenly widening her eyes.

"You… You saved me" she murmured, turning slightly her head to him.

She looked genuinely surprised and confused, but there was nothing tender in those feelings; in fact, she waited for the man to nod and then chuckled out of the blue.

"You are such a fool, Isaac…" she added and this time in her tone there was a bitter note. "I wanted to kill you, I wanted to see you dead… And you save my life, darling?"

She wasn't sorry, she didn't feel any regret for her criminal thoughts, but their hostility was somehow making her sad and that unexplainable rescue surprised her. It was instead the absurdity of the general situation that was making her laugh.

"I never wanted to see you dead"

Isaac's answer was serious, but the hint of a smile was still on his lips: a strange smile, not amused, not bitter, maybe just determined. He kept smiling while he sat on the bed as well and slowly dared the move to approach his hand to the woman's cheek. He felt her shivering under his touch, he saw those sparkling blue eyes widening again and in that moment he understood. Cruella never was innocent and everything they had lived together was a lie, but there had been something real; there was a common thread between past and present, between angel and devil, and that common thread was her sincere _wonder_. Maybe she wasn't able to feel love or empathy, but she was able to _wonder_ and he was the one to bring that emotion out of her.

"You were right, I never really loved you completely…" he started to say, still caressing her gently "but now I mean to do that, I want to fall in love with the _devil_…"

He stared at her with determination and then, before that beautiful expression of wonder vanished from her face, he let their faces become closer until he placed a soft kiss on those red lips – just as he had been imagining until that moment. That day and all the days of his whole life.

Cruella stood still; actually, she didn't feel anything particular at that contact, if not the intensity of _his_ love. And that love wasn't bothering her now, it was simply intriguing – and _amazing_ \- her.

"Be careful, darling… For a man who's not used to live, this could be too much to bear" she whispered with a half smirk.

And then, pusher by an instict she couldn't define, it was her the one to close again the distance between their lips.

* * *

**First of all, thank you so much for the beautiful reviews! I'm glad you liked the beginning of the story and I hope you will continue to follow it!:) ****Of course, I had to save Cruella from her death... So from now on the story will be an AU from 4x18. I let something happen between them and something more will in next chapters! See you soon:)**


	3. Kissing the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 3: Kissing the Devil**

He showed up in front of Cruella's room on time, with a bouquet of white roses in hand. Before he could go upside, the old woman who ran the inn gave him a sort of blunt advise about "not messing with the psicopath with the awful hair", but Isaac just laughed of it; maybe getting back the lost dimension of naive hope, the only feeling he had was one dangerously close to joy. And when the door – which had the emblematic and not casual number _666_ on it – was opened and he saw the woman, that feeling was confirmed. In a black dress, red high heels and the inevitabile fur, it was impossibile to make a comparison with the innocent beauty of many years before; but now she looked to him equally beautiful, even if of a diabolic beauty.

"Oh, are these for me, darling?" she rhetorically asked, raising one marked eyebrow. Then she appropriated of the bouquet with a little elegant gesture and smelled the flowers for a moment. "And yet, I expected you to remember that my favourite flowers are bluebells…"

"Oh, I perfectly remember that, but Mr French had run out of the _poisoned_ ones" he answered quickly, not being able to hold the wisewreck. "Besides, white roses symbolize purity. With time, I have learnt to appreciate black humor."

Cruella raised her eyebrow again, but this time annoyance had turned into a sort of pleasant pride. The man had obviously changed too, she wasn't the one to have lost her innocence after all; but, in her opinion, that change was totally positive. She let her eyes wander on him for some moments, then she allowed herself a short laugh.

"I already told you that I like this new _mascular_ side" she commented eventually, mischievously stressing the adjective.

Then she put the flowers into a vase with unexpected cure and threw one last glance at the mirror. Only then, she took Isaac by the arm and closed the door behind her.

"I will be the one to drive this time darling, of course, since the car is mine now"

"I saw how you reduced it. I wouldn't want it back anyway"

A last eloquent glance between the two and then they climbed down the stars, ready for their _second_ first date, which seemed to have already started with the wrong foot. Or maybe, on the contrary, it had began exactly with the right frame of mind.

* * *

The Rabbit Hole was very different from Murray's club and nothing was remained of the magic and elegant atmosphere of their London. And yet, Isaac could still feel the magic and Cruella was somehow noticing it for the first time.

"You should go slow with that gin" he said in a vaguely amused tone, after only twenty minutes in the pub.

He had thought that the gin could have been the only constant in time, and yet that particolar was betraying the old memory too, according to the quickness the woman used to drink two shots already.

She just chuckled. "Don't worry, darling. You were right in the end, I got used to the taste"

As she had got used to magical ink on her hair, controlling animals and driving his car.

"Actually, it's to your constant presence in me that I had to get used to" she added after another sip of gin, following her own thought's path. "Do you realize how much a single night changed my life?"

_Hers, of course_ \- an ironic smile escaped his lips. Actually, he had never seen it like that, maybe because he had only focused on the effects that their encounter-clash had had on himself. And there was still no comparison: if that night had changed Cruella's life, for Isaac it had been _all _his life.

"And yet, you wanted to kill me…"

"I wouldn't use the past tense, if I were you…"

That sharp comment made completely disappear the smile from the author's face, while her harsh look made immediately crumple the magico f the moment; naively, he had forgotten again the woman's true essence, making the same mistake. Cruella was the devil, that awareness was back on him again now; she was the devil and he had promised to love her for that side as well.

So, he kept smiling this time even more sincerely, and stood up instinctively, daring the gesture to take her hand in his.

"Let's dance" he simply said and in his eyes the same light of many years before was shining.

But if Isaac that time had opposed a first resistance to her ivitation, now Cruella simply raised her eyebrows in surprise and then slowly stood up too.

_He had managed to amaze her again and she looked amazing._

They danced together for a while, even if the music of the XXI century was awful; they danced without smiling, but staring at each other with a new intensity, colored by a new note of mischievousness; they danced all night until they were the only one left, except for some drunkards half unconscious on the counter. That's when they discovered the barman's secret passion for melancholic songs and so they found themselves dancing their last dance to a new closeness, hands in hands, chest to chest and almost touching faces.

"At this point, the old Cruella would have kissed me on the cheek" Isaac suddenly teased her, breaking the pleasing silence and giving her an eloquent look.

He was thinking about the past, about that tender and innocent kiss that made him fall in love with her, but Cruella was thinking about the PResent and her next act confirmed that. In a second, against any expectation, she took his face in her hands and kissed him just as he had suggested. But his time on the lips and in an almost aggressive way.

"That is how the devil kisses" she whispered then, breaking abruptly the contact. "_Let's live_ tonight" she added then, in an allusive tone, blemishing the echo of her own sentence pronounced in the past.

She was holding his hand, silently inviting him to follow her and Isaac didn't hesitate much before giving up. He wanted passion, aggressiveness, sensuality, sweetness, love and also cruel suffering; he wanted to live and this time he wouldn't have been fine with just a taste. In her arms, breathing in her strong parfume and clashing with her red tempting lips, he was hungry for life, but he didn't want any life. He wanted the life that only that splendid devil could offer him, no matter how much letal.

So he chose to _live_, even if her invitation seemed rather to promise _death_.

* * *

**Hello! Thank you for your support, I'm glad you are liking this story! Hope you liked this third chapter and their first date as well:) See you soon!**


	4. Loving the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 4: Loving the Devil**

Isaac's shirt touched the floor quickly, instead the zip of Cruella's dress was opened with an almost annoying slowness. That's because they didn't look for the same thing in that encounter: the woman wanted to forget her misery and annul herself in that moment; the man on the contrary wanted to remain completely lucid and remember every single detail he was now exploring of her.

Sweetness answered to aggressiveness, and in the end they found the silent compromise of a tender passion.

Hands, lips, teeth, tongue… He had never touched another woman before, she had never been touched _that way_. Lying on the bed under his touch, she wondered for a moment what would have happened to her if that had been her first time, becuase giving herself to him now somehow felt better than seeing life flow out of a body. Touching her, tasting her, feeling her his, Isaac wondered instead if that was life, but the answer was that it was much more, actually. Their so natural, almost necessary, union was the perfect harmony of life and death, it was the final battle between _Eros and Tanathos_ – and maybe Freud wasn't worng when he made sex the centre of everything, after all.

"Cruella, I –"

The confession was interrupted by another violent kiss.

"No, don't you dare saying it" she whispered then against his lips, with a tone that sounded more anguished than bothered.

Isaac stopped to look at her and it was the strange flash of fear in her eyes that convinced him to desist. He kissed her again with that impetuosity she wanted, leaving aside for that moment his own need of tenderness.

But he did loved her and, if he couldn't say it, he would have showed it.

* * *

Was it possible to love evil for evil? Isaac wasn't asking that question with the echo of the agostinian self-accusation, but with the not so disgusting awareness that yes, it was possible indeed. And yet, looking at Cruella, naked at his side and with a rare relaxed expression on her face, she didn' look evil at all; on the contrary, Isaac had no more doubt to say that she was the best thing that ever happened in his life – despite everything.

After the whirlwind of passion was over, they both remained in silence for a while and suddenly they were distant again. It was the man the first to recreate the closeness, not with gestures but with words though. And not common words, but _those_ words.

"Cruella, I love you"

The woman turned around quickly, as if she was suddenly taken away from the serenity she had fallen into, and the shadow of fear appared again. She glared at him and slowly sat up, turning her back on him and starting to look for her clothes with her eyes, They were too far to be reached without moving from the bed, but that wasn't an obstacle: she wanted to leave, she needed to – even if technically the room was _hers_.

"How _sentimental_ you are, darling. The fact that I liked having sex with you doesn't change my nature" she said coldly, trying to stand up in the meanwhile.

But before she could, he quickly grabbed her arm, forcing her to the double act of coming back to bed and looking at him. If that sentence hid the admission that she actually liked what had just happened between them, on the other hand it contained also something meant to hurt him deeply.

"Love, Cruella"

"What?"

"Love. We made _love_" he repeated, seriously rectifying her attempt to lessen their bond.

But on Cruella's face surprise was replaced by an ironic and almost sharp laugh. "You really are sentimental, don't you see?"

That reaction inflicted another wound to him, but it didn't annoy nor offend him. Now he knew who he was dealing with and he knew that he couldn't have expected anything from her, even if he really would have liked to. Without answering immediately, he intensified a little the hold on her wrist and and attracted her to him, until they both ended up lying on the bed again, her almost on top of him and their faces just an air blow far.

"I perfectly know what is your nature. You are selfish, liar and psichopath… I know that and still, I love you" he replied, stressing with paradoxal sweetness the adjectives. "You have given me life and at the same time you destroyed it, you have been cruel and yet good… And I'll let you know that I'm not letting you go away this time"

He was good at words and, besides the good form, that speech surprised her because it sounded true. This time she didn't dare laugh and, separating a little from him, just stared in silence for some moments; then she slowly moved her hand to his cheek in an unexpected caress, before letting it fall on his chest.

"Your heart is beating…" she whispered eventually, without any particolar emotion, if not one of disquieting curiosity.

Despite his promise to accept completely her nature, Isaac instictevely stiffened and that same heart escaped a beat indeed. However he tried not to show it and simply reacted with a smile of bitter irony.

"I bet this bothers you, doesn't it?"

"No, I like it, actually" she contraddicted him, surprisingly. "I don't want to kill you. I mean, I _can't, _but I wouldn't want it too…"

A short silence and the apparent tenderness turned into mischievousness.

"I like what you can do alive, you are more useful…"

"_A means to an end_…" Isaac remembered bitterly. And yet, he judjed a step forward even that insult.

"Of course, darling, you will never be anything else…" she confirmed with the same previous coldness – but this time it sounded forced though.

In fact, istinctively she approached him again, placing her head on his chest. She had abandoned the plan to leave and preferred instead the warmth of their sort of relationship.

Isaac started to caress her eccentric hair he himself created and a sincere smile crossed his face. Cruella didn't want to kill him and somehow she needed him: all of this was more than enough for now.

* * *

**So, I let something happen ;) What do you think? Was it IC or not? I'm not totally sure about it but I have to say that I'm enjoying writing this fic more and more:) **

**Anyway, next chapter will be kinda funny (before the angst of later chapters LoL).**


	5. Living with the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 5: Living with the Devil**

Three months were passed and Isaac found out not only that it was possible to live for him, but also that it was possible to live with the devil. With natural gradualness they were finding themselves being an actual couple: they went around Storybrooke together, they shared the bed every night and most of all they had decided to leave the uncomfortable room at Granny's and move into one of the most beautiful houses in town. It belonged to Gold before, but a deal proposed by Isaac and a not too much hidden threat from Cruella was more than enough to persuade him; after all, there had been sufficient times to understand that when it came to Belle, the Dark One's selfishness dangerosuly crumbled. And the new couple, showing on the contrary selfishness of their own, had touched exaclty that weakness.

So, while Storybrooke seemed to have reached an atmosphere of peace and normality, the two were trying to adapt to it. And it's easy to like normality for those who are not used to it.

"Cruella, I'm home"

An unexpected unpleasant smell was the welcome Isaac got that evening, but it was only when his eyes landed on the set table that he managed to identify it. The black and white tablecloth, a vase of disquieting black roses as centrepiece and two plates full in a confused way of meat and strange vegetables: it was a very questionable picture, but that didn't make everything more believable. Because Isaac still couldn't believe that she had actually cooked.

"Have you really made dinner for us?"

In the meanwhile Cruella, sitting on the sofa, were closing the nail polish she had just finished to put on, and only then she looked up to him. And it was actually a glare.

"I was bored to death, darling" she simply answered eventually, blowing on the red nails.

As a matter of fact, she wasn't wrong: if he had found a job as main journalist for the Daily Mirror after Sidney Glass's missing, she had nothing to do all day – except going around with her car along with Maleficent and Ursula. However, despite the surprise for the dinner and the half empathy for her boredom, Isaac felt that answer as an accusation and it was the secret feeling of resentment that suddenly won.

"I can only imagine how much fun you had with your dear husband" he said in fact ironically. Finding out that she had been married was probably the only thing that he really couldn't forgive her.

The woman stared at him this time with a flash of fury and the man almost regret to have caused her change of mood.

"I'll let you know that I lived in a huge masion in Long Island" she replied – and his irony in her voice turned into sarcasm. "If you decided to _write_ me a mansion of at least three floor with a wonderful garden and maybe a fountain in it… Well, maybe I would be happier!"

Isaac stared back at her and it was his turn to feel angry; but just when he started feeling that emotion, he simply shook his head and let out a smile in place of a sharp answer. His decision to avoid the use of the magic pen was the main reason behind their fights, he knew that, and that night he didn't want to fight. So, without answering, he just sat in front of the table and allowed himself some moments to study the table. The bad smell was still in the air and the meat seemed at the same time _burned_ and _cold as death_, but the realization that she had made something for him – even if out of boredom – was enough to make him happy.

"It's… excellent" he commented after the first brave mouthful.

_He was lying, of course._

* * *

Sitting on the sofa under a cover, playfully joking to take charge of the remote control: apparently it was a typical scene of a normal couple; however the presence of a bottle of gin instead of pop corn and the fact that the image on the TV changed quickly between splut and romance stressed their originality.

"We aren't going to watch _Midnight in Paris_ again, darling…" Cruella decided, pushing a botton, casually.

And casually on the screen appeared an episode of _Criminal Minds_.

"And I don't want to watch this TV show!"

"I know, the serial killers' stories are always moving… But you really are too sentimental"

Isaac raised both his eyebrows, not believing the accusation. He would have liked to tell her that serial killers were the last thing that gave emotions to him in that show, but he knew that they had two very different concept of emotions after all.

"That's not true… I'm not too sentimental!"

"Oh darling, you covered your eyes for _Obery Martell_'s death and you actually _cried_ for it!"

The author found himself widening his eyes for the second time. Actually, he considered a success that he had managed to fall asleep that night – and he had dreamt _Gregor Clegane_, anyway.

"Well, it was a pretty normal reaction… You instead have _laughed_!"

And she still laughed at the memory. "It was funny… It was really a funny death! I wish I had that idea myself…" she sighed in an almost nostalgic way. But her expression quickly changed, though. "By the way I don't understand why you are so against Criminal Minds when you are living with an UNSUB… You should call _Derek Morgan_ to get me"

"Oh but really? You would like to meet that agent, wouldn't you?" the man echoed her, now in an amused tone. "But I have all the intentions to keep you for myself… UNSUB and all"

With that sentence between mischievous and sweet, he attracted her to him, with the intention to embrace her during all the episode, even if it wasn't her the one to need that contact. He already knew how that night would have ended: Cruella would have laughed at any homicide, supported the serial killer and, once the episode was over, she would have obliged him to watch _American Horror Story_ – even if she found it pretty boring.

Yes, they could have looked like a normal couple and they could have done all the ordinary things together – just not in the _ordinary _way.

* * *

**Ok, I know, it's pretty nonsense this chapter, but I needed to let see how their relationship evolves and also put some humor in this story. And besides, can you imagine how cute it would be to see them watching GOT together? Just imagine Oberyn's death: Isaac would cover his eyes and scream (pretty much my reaction as well) while Cruella would laugh and praise Martin forever. I just like this idea too much and then I also added some refers to Criminal Minds because it would be something that Cruella would like. LoL Let me know what you think about this chapter, hope to not have ruined everything LoL **

**Next chapter will be a serious chapter though, so be prepared!;)**


	6. Proposing to the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 6: Proposing to the Devil**

Maybe it was for professional bias that Isaac desired so much to make a perfect proposal.

He was a dreamer, a writer and a reader, so it was more than natural that he would have liked to make those ideas of paper real, even if he was aware of the fact that his woman wouldn't have cared – not about the form, nor about the proposal itself. That's why he spent some days thinking about the perfect proposal, because it was obvious that he wanted to marry her and four months seemed even too much for him. He esamine every options and projected every detail, keeping vaguely in mind examples like _Pride and Prejudice_ or the balcony scene from _Romeo and Juliet_, and in the end he arrived at a good enough conclusion. He would have taken her out, they would have danced all night together, then, returning home, she would have found the house full of black and white bluebells and in that moment he would have got down on one knee to make her the proposal. Not much original, of course, but romantic indeed.

It was the right idea and he liked it, he really liked it; however he was the one to destroy it completely. The prearranged evening they were in fact just sitting at the dining table in front of a pizza and she was even in a bad mood. He chose to reduce his expectation in order not to take it badly.

"You're acting weird, darling…" she noted, looking more annoyed than worried. "If there is something wrong, just say it… I'm not in the mood to deal with your romantic poet-like delusion…"

"Actually, I want to ask you to marry me"

The noise of the knife falling on the plate, a violent and sudden cough and then a loud cruel laugh.

"Marry, me and you?" she asked, staring with her wide opened blue eyes. And she laughed again, nervously.

But Isaac kept control and tried to hold back both the irritation and the unavoidable disappointment.

"Would you be kind enough to tell me if this laugh is a _yes_ or a _no_?"

Impressed by that determination, Cruella tried to stop her laugh, looked down for a moment almost embarassed – or maybe just aware – and then looked up again without any particolar expresison.

"Why don't you _write_ my yes yourself?" she asked with a sudden sharp irony, that she herself didn't know where it was coming from. "And in the meanwhile, _write_ me also a diamond ring…"

After she had said that, she glanced one last time at him and then, not waiting for the answer, she just stood up taking the bottle of wine with her.

With not even the solace of alcohol as, Isaac was left alone with the echo of those cruel words; he would have probably liked to cry and yet he found himself chuckling bitterly.

Oh, how it was different that moment from the one he had imagined; _not even the worst writer could have ever written such a tragic proposal. [*]_

* * *

In spite of his cautions, Isaac had take nit badly anyway, and the thing was actually more evident than he probably would have liked to. In fact, in the following days he had tried to avoid her whenever it was possible and even answered to her with an unusual coldness. He was disappointed and angry – with her, with himself -, and yet for nothing in the world he would have cancelled that proposal.

Stubbornly he loved her, stubbornly he wanted to marry her.

Even than night, as the previous three ones, he retired into his office, finding comfort in the reassuring montionlessness offered by pen and paper; however he couldn't know that that night Cruella decided to go to him instead of waiting in the bedroom or going out with her friends as a distraction. This night she didn't want to distract herself, this night she wanted to clarify the situation; even if she didn't felt it, she _knew_ that somehow she had made a mistake and she also knew that she had to fix it.

"Darling, why don't you come to bed? It's late…"

The tone used was forcely sweeter than usual, but the author's intention didn't waver.

"I have to finish this article by tomorrow"

The woman let out an annoyed sigh but didn't step back, starting on the contrary to approach more and stopping only when she reached with her legs the desk.

"Well, someone once wrote that _inspiration has fallic roots_" she whispered, not hiding now a sudden mischievousness.

It was more for the choice of the quotation than for her tone that Isaac looked finally up, but when he did the words just heard vanished completely from his mind. Cruella was standing in front of him with a revaling black lace lingerie and was staring at him with an almost famelic look. He could feel his body react to that vision and in his mind appeared immediately the idea of scattering all the pieces of pages on the desk and taking her right then and right there.

He was angry though. Resist her was difficult now, but not impossible.

"Are you really quoting D.H. Lawrence?" he eventually asked, awakening from the reverie and trying to keep his disdainful coldness. "But if you believe to resolve the situation with _sex_, I invite you to change your plan…"

Cruella widened her eyes and remained silent for a while, staring at him that on the contrary wasn't looking at her. Against any prediction, she was deeply hurt; the problem wasn't the fact that he was rejecting her though, but rather his words. For some strange reason, she didn't like the sound of the word _sex_ now: hearing it out of his lips seemed almost like an insult.

"I just want to _make love_ with my _fiancè_… Can you blame me for that?"

It wasn't more than a whisper in a vaguely annoyed tone, but without being a part of a plan, it revealed itself to be paradoxically the most effective plan. In fact, Isaac immediately looked up at her and slowly a happy – or, as she would have called it, _sentimental_ – smile appeared on his lips. Now there couldn't have been a way to resist her, but frankly he didn't see why he had to do that. With thatt simple sentence he obtained more than he had wanted, even more than he could have ever hoped for. It was her recognition of their relationship, it was her way to say she was sorry, it was her way to tell that she actually cared.

Not answering with words, the man finally abandoned the desk and quickly reached her, suddenly placing a passionate kiss on her lips. They gave up to their mutual desire in that same room just like his previous reverie, but reality proved to be better than fantasy.

Because this time they made love and it was a love than for the first time had the taste of life rather than death.

* * *

**[*] Yes, I guess I am that worst author, after all LoL**

**I want to thank for the wonderful reviews I have received, they really made me happy! I hope you liked this chapter as well and the proposal too! I've tried to write some sort of fluff, but also to keep the characters IC... So, now enjoy this romantic chapter, because _angst is finally coming!_ (and I'm hating myself while writing right now...).**

**See you soon!**


	7. Fearing (for) the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 7: Fearing (for) the Devil**

That was the fourth time Cruella had been forced to get out of bed at dawn because of a stabbing nausea. When some minutes later she looked at the mirror and met her own pale and tired face, she decided that she had enough of it. This time she couldn't blame an excess of gin and maybe four days were too many even for an intestinal virus.

"Cru, is everything alright?"

She found herself jumping at that voice and immediately felt an apparently unjustified annoyance. In that moment she hated Isaac; she had suspects and for those suspects she hated him. Hoever, she forced herself to make a smile and color the voice of the kindest tone she could fake.

"Oh yes, darling… It's always that damned virus"

She didn't believe it anymore, but there was no reason for him to know about her doubts. Surely not now, probably ever.

* * *

Isaac was worried. He had noticed since a couple of days Cruella's strange malaise, as well as her headaches, the nausea and the general weariness… It was like something was slowly consuming her: it was certainly a simple illness, but joined to an indipendent and strong woman like her, it almost looked like an oxymore anyway. Now, sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea in hand, the pale face and the distant look, she seemed weak, fragile and terribly human. The thing suprised him, but also somehow scaring him.

"Are you sure to be alright?" he asked, not hiding his worry and placing a hand on her forehead with concern.

She stiffened immediately at the contact and instinctively turned away. Only after some moments, probably realizing her reaction, she looked at him again and forced herself to hint a smile.

"As far as I know, an intestinal virus never killed anyone. Surely it won't kill a serial killer, will it?" she answered then, chuckling ironically.

The virus excuse, again. A lie told often enough can become a truth – maybe not for her, but it could work for him.

"Do you want me to stay at home today? I don't want you to be alone and…"

The man's umpteenth offer was interrupted by Cruella's index suddenly pressed on his lips, and by her even more eloquent look. Actually, she didn't feel like being alone, but he was the last person she wanted close at the moment.

"Isaac, go to work" she just said and the rare use of his name gave more emphasis to the command.

Isaac stared at her for a while, clearly unsure, but then didn't hesitate too much before surrendering to her will. He felt that something was wrong, but she knew that he couldn't intervene; he loved her and she had accepted to marry him, but yet he still didn't have that right and probably he never would have. So, he stood up and, after giving her a kiss, reached the door, recommending her to rest and call him for anything.

If those loving attentions were making her nervous, the sound of the closing door arrived as a relief.

Left alone at home, Cruella closed for a moment her eyes, allowing herself a moment of peace; then she opened them again and in her look a cruel determination shined. And it was with that determination that she grabbed her phone and pushed with her finger the second voice in the list of the last calls.

"_Mal, darling, I could use your help…"_

* * *

Victor Whale wasn't a coward man; he had dealt with Rumplestiltskin, he had led the revolt against the Evil Queen after the first curse and finally he had also faced her girlfriend Ruby's dangerous and unfriendly granny. And yet in that moment, looking at the three women sitting in front of him, he felt like dying. He would have gladly escaped, but he couldn't and so he tried to keep calm, entrenching behind the formality of his role.

"Congratulations, Mrs De Vil, you are pregnant" he announced after a long disquieting silence, even daring to hint a nervous smile.

Thinking about that in retrospect, that wish could sound as a mock, but in his opinion it wasn't anything more than common procedure.

Maleficent and her daughter exchanged a look both astonished and also unavoidably worried about the imminent reaction of the animal witch; however, against everyone's expectations, Cruella remained apparently impassive.

And why shouldn't have she? It was something that she had already predicted and also already found a lucid solution for.

"Well now, doctor, can you give me the papers to sign in order to remove this _thing_?"

The coldness and the hint of disgust in her voice created a silence even longer and more disquieting than the previous one. All eyes were on her, but she didn't like that kind of attention though: somehow, she didn't want to be judged.

"Mrs De Vil, you should think-"

Whale's attempt was stopped immediately by the woman's glare; in that moment he was firmly persuated that it could have the power to burn more than the two dragon ladies' fire. Under the pressure of that silent solicitation, he quickly stood up and reached the door in a moment, desiring now more than before to escape.

"I'll go taking the papers right now…"

As soon as the man was out, the silence grew deeper until it suddenly vanished completely.

"Are you aware of what you are doing?" Maleficent asked staring at her with concern but also blame.

That was exactly the kind of look Cruella didn't want. But it was her own fault after all, because she should have thought better before choosing the happy dragon family as a support. Actually, she still couldn't get why she had needed support in the first place.

"We all know that I am no mother material, darling" she answered with an icy smile.

"Well, you can't really know that." And this time it was little big Lily to speak up.

The objection made turn that smile into a nervous chuckle.

"But really? I am the one that left you into the woods to die" she spat in fact with a sort of perverse pride in giving such a proof. "And then, believe me, you have just a gramme of darkness compared to this _thing_ inside me."

The unpredictable note of bitterness in her voice was the only thing that clashed in the picture of sharp indifference she was herself painting, and also what saved her from her best friend's reaction after the provocation. In fact, Maleficent just slowly took one of her hands in hers, offering that unrequested but secretly wanted comfort. And Cruella, surprising herself, didn't back out of the contact.

Maybe she needed that after all, even if she wasn't aware of it; maybe that was exactly the reason why she had called her that morning.

"It's your baby, it's the baby of a man that loves you, a man that you are about to marry… You can be happy, Cru, you have the chance to start again, free from your sins and from your obsessions… At least, consider what you are giving up…"

Cruella didn't answer, maybe simply because she had closed her mind and stopped listening. She didn't want to listen anything about happy ending, love and most of all Isaac. If she had told that she didn't have any feeling at all, she would have lied; she had actually learnt to feel a lot of emotions lately even if they lived confusingly inside her and she wasn't able to give them a good shape. Because the emotions felt by a psycopath couldn't be healthy anyway. And the emotion connected to the idea of becoming a mother was fear, the most deplorable emotion of all; she was feeling weak and terrified and she didn't want to feel like that.

She just wanted that strange fear gone and so, necessarily, she needed that _thing_ gone as well.

* * *

**Yes, I am a bitch, I know that. But don't say I didn't warn you. Don't hate me please LoL**


	8. Comforting the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Parte 8: Comforting the Devil**

If she could have got rid of her problem she would have done it already, but yet, returning home, that _thing_ was still inside of her. She had tried with the method of science and she had tried the method of magic, but a supernatural force had prevented her from both signing the papers for the abort and swallowing the potion reluctantly prepared by Maleficent. Obviously, that supernatural force was the same curse that had taken away from her the ability to kill; it was Isaac's fault and she hated him a bit more for that.

And the intensity of that hate echoed in the sound of the entry door violently slammed.

"Cruella, where have you been? I was worried!"

Actually, he had every reason to be, since he had left her that morning clearly sick and when he had come back at dinner time she was nowhere to be found. He even called Ursula and Maleficent but both of them – the first one confused and the other one a bit evasive – hadn't been of any help. However the relief of seeing her didn't last long, because the woman entering as a fury stopped in front of him, simply handing him a pen and some papers.

"Sign at the bottom, darling"

Isaac frowned confused and it took just a single look at those papers to recall back the worry.

"_Consent for the surgery_… What the hell does it mean?"

He was staring at her already scared, but she didn't vacillate; instead, she stared back at him and almost enjoyed a perved satisfaction answering that question.

"It's the conset for the abort" she said in fact with a neutral tone, as if it were the shopping list. "I'm pregnant and now you are going to resolve the problem"

The news took some moments to fix on the man's mind and when it did, it shook him with an unexptected horror. The comprehension of the perspective of becoming father couldn't in fact be separeted by the aknowledge of her decision; that's why the natural instict of happiness was immediately hushed by fear, contempt and also disgust. Even if at first it was still incredulity to prevail.

"You can't really say that…"

But she simply shrugged. "Do I look like I'm joking, darling?"

"But you can't really do that to your baby… _My_ baby! And without telling me! Cruella, how can you be so… heartless?"

At that accusation she let out a smile, and it was a cruel one. "What do you want me to say? I'm not mother material…"

Isaac couldn't tell if it was more that sentence or that smile to upset him, but suddenly he felt like awakening from a long dream, he felt as if he were opening his eyes, he felt _sick_. Probably what was shocking him the most was not the fact that she didn't want the baby, but the way she was telling it. Suddenly she showed up to his eyes for the first time really like the Devil and she looked even worse than she actually was.

"You are a monster!" he exclaimed with disdain, even before realizing it. And once those words were out of his mouth, the flow of rage didn't stop. "You are a monster! You really are a devil… I can't understand how I could have fallen in love with you. No one could, you don't deserve my love…"

A long silence followed those words and the two stared at each other in silence: he with no signs of remorse, she probably for the first time in her life really shaken. Until somehow her upheaveal exploded and rage answered to rage.

"You know what? You have no right to say that! It's all your fault if I am in this situation…" she started to yell, approaching him dangerously. "It's all your fault if I'm pregnant in the first place… It's all your fault if I can't kill this _thing _myself… It's all your fault it-"

_If she were having feelings_, but she didn't say that aloud. A sudden pressure in her chest prevented her from continuing and the lack of air made suddenly turn that yell from a diabolic delirium into a _too human_ disperation.

There wasn't anything of apologetic in what she had said, and yet thanks to that simple weakness, the expression on his face immediately changed. Unwillingly, Cruella was revealing in fact more than what she had intended to: the pressure in the chest became outside a stream of tears. For the first time in her whole life, Cruella De Vil was crying and she was crying hard, with no control, she was crying so much that it was hurting her – and it was hurting him as well.

"Cruella…" he tried to call her with a tone that had gained back all the usual kindness.

But she didn't want that kindness in that moment; actually she didn't know what she wanted.

"I am a monster, you are right, and I'm not even sorry for this! How could I be a mother… I could hurt him, don't you see? And how do you think my child would be? It can only be a monster just like me!" She took a deep breath and let out some other tears. "And you are really that fool not to see that? I am this, I am a monster, I am the Devil… And you are a fool… _Fool_!"

She was accusing him as a defence and mostly not to allow herself to do something that never once occured to her before: seeing and hating herself.

"I don't want this _baby_… I _can't_ want it!"

She was crying harder and harder, until she started to sob, until her knees almost wakened. _Almos_t, because before that could have happened, Isaac grabbed her and held her in his arms with no more reservations this time.

Paradoxically, he was the one to feel regret now. The Devil was completely vanished and he had never seen her so angelic as in that moment of fragile humanity.

"Cruella, I'm sorry for what I've said, you are right: it wasn't fair from me…" he started to say and he really meant that. He had vowed to love her no matter what and apparently that was the moment she needed that love the most. "It will be alright, we can have this baby, we can do this together." Suddenly, Cruella laughed bitterly among tears and she broke a little that embrace. "You don't realize what you're saying, darling. Do you really want toh ave a child with me? There is no return from that."

"Oh, but I think I've already crossed the point of no return…"

The laugh slowly disappeared and her expression became once again serious and even strangely unsure. "Do you really think we can become… _parents_?" she asked and somehow the scared and scaring way she said the last word sounded funny.

The author just caressed her cheek lovingly and gave her a reassuring smile. "Maybe we won't be _ordinary_ parents… But yes, I think we can"

His voice was full of a barely annoying enthusiasm and he seemed really convinced; she wasn't, but for some strange reasons she chose to believe him.

Maybe because she had never liked _ordinary_ things after all.

* * *

**I love angst, but I am a fan of happy endings. Besides, I already have an idea of a cute little family of sweet psychopath ahaha so this couldn't end differently. What do you think about it? Anyway, watch out because for later chapters, angst is always around the corner ;)**


	9. Teasing the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 9: Teasing the Devil**

Of course, there was no immediate "happy ever after" for them; quite the contrary, at first their situation proved to be even more unstable than the usual.

Cruella couldn't easily get used to her new conditions: the rational part of her hadn't accepted the life growing inside of her yet, while the instinctive one was completely taken by irritation and a strange form of emotionality. In all of this, Isaac's role was important, even if often circumscribed to a sort of scapegoat; however he had found right in that occasion his determination and his ability to stand his ground. They fought, not with high pitch but often, and against any expectations he was the one to get the best of it. Sure, it was about essential matters - such as not smoke, not drink and not drive during pregnancy - but even if the woman was forced to surrender, she felt frustrated anyway… And unavoidably she took any chance to react.

"Cru, where have you put the keys of the car?"

A melliflous smile was the immediate answer. She had chosen the playful method this time.

"I don't know, darling… Why don't you try looking for them?"

The man looked at her for some moments and it was in the end his turn to smile. He perfectly knew her so far, he had found out her deepest secrets (or at least he hoped) and living with her he had learnt her habits. That mischievous expression then was just a further proof for his suspect.

"Do you want to bet that I guess immediately?"

Her eyes shined curiously and also challenginly. With that silent but determined encouragement, Isaac approached more until he was able to touch her; giving her a quick amused glance, he started to untie the first buttons of her shirt until he uncovered completely her bra. He lingered just a moment on the fabric and then – once he let the hand slip inside – on her soft skin, but that wasn't his aim though. In fact, a few seconds later he extracted again his hand, but not before having picked a certain something. And that something was now waving in front of her eyes.

"How- How did you guess?" she asked, slightly widening her eyes. She actually seemed surprised.

"I know you, my love. Your bra is practically Mary Poppin's bag" he replied, while already heading back to the door with his precious keys in hand.

"Wait… Do you really want to leave me like that?!"

Now she seemed disappointed. Whatever she had thought of doing, the awakened libido in pregnancy wasn't suggesting her to tie the buttons of her shirt. But Isaac didn't respond to that tease and simply gave her a silent solicitation to hurry up. He had booked a table for 8 o'clock and they were already late – or so he kept saying at least since ten minutes. Apparently, if she was _Mary Poppins_, he was the _White Rabbit_.

Sighing heavily and looking up to the sky, Cruella fixed her clothes and, after grabbing her purse – because she didn't put everything in her bra after all – reached him out of the house. And the vision of the car was like adding fuel to the fire.

"Damn it, why can't I drive? Pregnant women drive all the time!"

That protest, now no more so playful, had a simple glare as an answer.

"Normal women? Yes… You? Not a chance!" he answered then with words as well, showing a brave irony.

Cruella puffed annoyed, but for some strange reason she felt in awe by the man's confidence; without resisting, she let him open the door at the passenger side for her and then, once she was seated, she even allowed him to fasten the seatbelt around her body.

In other words, she let him win for the unteempth time, even if she didn't hold herself from complaining about his _slow and boring_ drive.

* * *

Sparkling water in place of wine and banned any raw vegetable or ready-sliced meat: even that night Cruella had unwillingly submitted to Isaac's new _presumed degree in medicine_, but she had taken revenge with a million of strange dishes ordered behind the justification of "cravings". Actually, just in her third month of pregnancy, she hadn't had not even one of them, but this fact didn't prevent her from the sadic amusement of awakening him in the dead of the night and send him to search for strawberries. And it was February, in an isolated town.

Too lost in her reverie, she missed the scene of the happy greeting from the Golds, and when, with widened eyes, she finally focused her attention on them, she just grasped Belle's graceful figure and the hopping Rumple's one walking away hand in hand.

But if she was staring at them, someone else was staring at her.

"Don't make that face, Cru… Mr Gold will be my bestman, after all"

Cruella's eyes widened even more and now they were alll focused on the man in front of her. She knew that the two men had become close friends, but yet she didn't expect them to be _that _close.

"But… Why the hell haven't you asked me anything about it?"

Isaac just chuckled sincerely amused by that predictable reaction and simply shrugged. He had learnt so far how to handle her irritation very well.

"_Ask you_? I believe you didn't ask me anything about the choice of Ursula and Maleficent as your bridesmaids…"

"And who should they be otherwise? The old shewolf and her niece?"

The man didn't answer at that point. _In fact, not even if he had written the whole fairytale book again, something like that could have happened_ – he thought and in silence he agreed with her.

"Anyway…" he started again after a short while and his tone softened slightly while changing the topic. "Is everything ready for the wedding?"

It was Cruella's turn to shrug, but her nonchalance wasn't probably so faked. "My dress is almost ready, darling."

_The only thing I really care about_ – she would have liked to add, but she knew that her total disinterest in the ceremony was already well-known.

However, Cruella's unusual tact was completely balanced by Isaac's answer.

"Well, also Gold's car is ready… You know, in case _I_ decide to leave_ you_ on the altar" he said in fact with a teasing smile.

And it was that smile more than his wisewreck to be the last straw. Cruella let her fork fall loudly on the plate and, not caring about the general attention she had then attracted, she let out all the hidden resentment she had been preserving toward him. She had critized Isaac's kindness and naivety more than once, but now that mix of cinism and sarcasm was becoming unbearable.

Mostly because, even if she knew it was all a product of fiction, he was proving himself to be a good actor though.

"Stop it!"

And the man this time _pretended_ to be confused too. "To do what?"

"To play the _villain_!" she quickly exclaimed. "I am the bitch between me and you, I am the sarcastic, emotionless, nasty one… _I am_ _the villain_"

At the end of that little scene she even had some tears in her eyes. But it was not Isaac to have obtained that much, that was just one of the many inconvenients of pregnancy.

"I thought you liked my _mascular_ side…"

"Yes, but I meant in the bedroom!" she replied and the hint of mischievousness in her voice made a big contrast to the exasperated expression.

Maybe it was right because of that contradiction that the author slighlty chuckled and grabbed without too many hesitation one of her hands.

"It's true, you are the villain. But that'es exactly the reason why I have to behave like this… It can really be hard living with a devil, you know?" he admitted honestly, not caring about showing his fragility now. "But I'm doing all of this just because I love you and I'm trying to find the better way to make things work"

Apparently, the play was over and he was back to be the same puppy blinded by love as ever. If that was a bad or a good thing she still wasn't ready to say, though. He had just told her that he loved her and, like everytime he did, she ended up feeling embarassment, shame and most of all a sort of bother for those words that – both of them knew it – she would have never been able to say back.

"Oh, darling, honestly I like seeing your… sweetness" she said, even if the word she was going to say was actually _submission_. Hoever, she didn't hide her glare while in a sudden twitch she broke the disgustingly and publicly romantic contact between their hands. "…_But maybe not too much_"

* * *

**Hello darlings:) I know I'm late with this chapter, but I was very busy and still am:/ Anyway, thank you for your beautiful reviews, hope you liked this chapter as well (even if not much important)! I'll try to update as soon as I can:)**


	10. Waiting to marry the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 10: Waiting to marry the Devil**

"Oh no! This is such a tragedy!"

The anguished yell coming from upstairs immediately alerted Isaac, obliging him to close the call with mr Gold without even a goodbye. For ten seconds – the needed time to reach Cruella – he feared the worst, but when he finally pushed the door of their bedroom, he simply saw her with her back turned staring at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a long and sumptuous white dress, her hair were unusually tied up and, despite the position, it was possible to see a slight swelling at her belly that gave somehow a certain kindness to her beauty. For a while he simply kept staring at her in silence and almost forgot his previous fear. Almost. Because she was beautiful indeed, but her complete distraction was revealing all her indifference.

"What is it so tragic?"

Despite the question was asked in a calm voice – at most it was only slightly ironic – it was the woman's turn to be startled. In fact, she turned around quickly with widened eyes, but not before throwing one of her furs on herself though.

"What the hell are you doing here Isaac?" she asked, approaching him with a furious expression now. "You can't see the dress before the wedding!"

He instinctively took some steps back, raising his hands up in a sign of defence. The border between handling her bad attitude and surrender completely to it was still very fragile: the aristotelic _metriotes_ was yet to be found, after all.

"I heard you yelling and so I came here to check…" he started to say in an unwillingly apologetic tone, but suddenly he stopped and a curious smirk appeared on his face. "What does it mean that I can't see your dress? Are you becoming superstitious?"

Cruella just rolled her eyes. "Of course not, darling… But I don't want to ruin the terror of the moment you'll see it" she added with a wink. And she seemed really thrilled about it.

However, that amusement didn't last long and, while the annoyance was back in her, she pushed him out of the room until slamming litterally the door on his face. For some moments he stood still: he didn't know actually if he should have felt offended, amused or simply resigned, but in any case the astonishment made vanish any other thought. Only when he started to climb down the stairs and heard a new imprecation, he remembered that he still hadn'r understood what was the "tragedy".

Unless, of course, the tragedy didn't stand for the general idea of their marriage: he had the strange feeling that it wouldn't have been her to become the _taimed shrew _but maybe it would have been him to turn into _Macbeth_.

* * *

"…And so I had to broaden the dress of two centimetres, and it is all of this little devil's fault! Argh, that's a true _tragedy_!"

Cruella finished the account of her little big misadventure of the morning with a deep sigh and it was with an instinctive gesture that she moved her hand toward the bottle of gin. Unluckly for her, someone was quicker though.

"Don' you dare, mom of the year!" Regina reproached her, stealing the bottle and passing it to the closest friend.

And Maleficent was ready to be that complicit. "You know you can't drink during pregnancy, Cru! And besides, don't call the baby like that! Why don't you call him something like _little puppy_?"

The proposal made Ursula laugh loudly and she almost choked with her drink.

"Considering the relationships between Cruella and puppies, I don't think that's a good idea at all!"

At that point the three witches laughed together in spite of the guest of honor that wasn't having fun at all. Granny's empty dinner wasn't proving to be a good location – maybe also because it was _too_ empty. And then the music they had was awful, the _little devil-puppy_ was preventing her from eating all the delicious food her eyes were carving for and, most of all, she couldn't drink a drop of alcohol!

"Oh, damn it! What the hell am I supposed to do then, darlings?" she suddenly complained, hiding her exasperated face in her red-gloved hands. "Tell me that at least _Sheriff Chiseled Chin_ and _Mr Timber Scruff_ are coming to make a strip tease!"

The other three women looked at each other susprised for the maybe not completely joke, but trying to cancel from their minds the image of a sexy Charming and a sexy Pinocchio, they did the best they could to hold back the new unavoidable laughter. Ursula placed a hand behind her back as attempt to comfort her, while Maleficent tried to say something, but before she could Belle French appeared in front of them with a suspicious smile on her lips.

"Now we'll make a good chat about the wedding and the baby… And in the meanwhile you can enjoy this good analcoholic cocktail" she offered, sitting down between Regina and Maleficent, and placing a glass full of some colored water in front of the new mommy.

_It must be a fruit mix_ – Cruella thought vaguely disgusted. And the disapproval wasn't only for the cocktail actually.

"Uh, darling… Was it really me the one who have invited you?"

* * *

Mr Gold read the text just appeared on his phone and shook his head. He had much trust in Belle, but the idea of her as a _spy_ for both Granny and Isaac didn't reassure him. At the moment, she was in fact with the whole queens of darkness team and one of the four had not even had a inch of redemption yet.

However, there was someone he was concerned more about, someone that was already destroyed enough right by that same witch. Sitting in front of him, Isaac looked thoughtful and strangely very nervous; it remembered for a moment himself waiting in that same place for Belle-Lacey and if he had to play the Charming of the situation he would have done that – according to his own rules, of course.

"Here is it!" the waiter of the Rabbit Hole exclaimed placing on their table a plate with at least a dozen glasses of whiskey.

Both the men looked up, but if Rumplestiltskin was smiling, Isaac widened his eyes surprsied. At least he was shaken from his thoughts, though.

"Look, we are just in two"

"No, actually these are all for _you alone_"

Gold's smirk widened, as also his new friend's eyes.

"Com'on, dearie. You are about to marry a _black widow_ and honestly getting you drunk is the only support I can give you"

The author shook his head and slightly chuckled, preparing himself to reply; however before he could even mutter a single word, he found himself almost unwillingly grabbing one of the glasses. Thinking about it, getting drunk wasn't a bad idea after all.

The next day there would have been the _marriage between Heaven and Hell_ \- as William Blake would have called it – even if he saw himself more like stuck in some terrace of _Dante's Purgatory._ Anyway, he wasn't an angel himself, quite the contrary in spite of his biblical name, he wasn't offering himself in _sacrife_ to God, but directly and willingly to the Devil.

* * *

**Et voilà chapter 10! This was the day before the wedding, so we are finally approaching it (or maybe I'll let something else happen? mmm). Anyway hope you liked the interactions with the other characters, mostly Rumbelle because I honestly love to imagine the two ships together :) Oh and** **please forgive me for the amount of references in this chapter, but they just fitted for me - especially the comparison to biblical Isaac.**

**See you soon:D**


	11. Marrying the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 11: Marrying the Devil**

Cruella De Vil – former Feinberg and almost Heller – was feeling thrilled, but no, the ceremony had not much to do with this. In fact, it wasn't a mistery that she didn't care about it: she just considered it a way to make a present to Isaac, while she herself would have at most gained a beautiful dress. She had been spending hours and hours creating it – it was actually almost her only contribution to the wedding -, but now, looking at herself in the mirror with a satisfied grin, she couldn't help but think that it was worth everything.

It was a sleeveless mermaid dress, starting with a notable neckline and ending with a moderate train. It was custume-made and that was the strong point and at the same time the weak one: it underlined in fact her curves, but that unluckily meant also to point out the small swelling of her belly; in that moment it didn't bother her though, but just because she had already cried enough about that _tragedy,_ after all. Besides, there were a lot of other details to focus on, as the unavoidable play of colors between black and white – the black part was limited to the final part however -, the unforgettable red gloves and a thin line of bluebells petals which climbed down from the left hip and then divided in two branches until the knees, defining this way the opening of the gown. That dress spoke about her, but it was the two-coloured fur on her arms to confirm it.

"So, how do I look, darlings?" she asked, making a half turn on her decolleté. They weren't visible, but they were anyway black with scarlet red high heels.

"Mmm, if you had more common tastes you could make dresses as a job" Maleficent commented with a trace of irony, not hiding a look of appreciation though.

"I like it very much!" Ursula exclaimed instead, showing more enthusiasm. Maybe she had been captured by the _mermaid style_.

Lily was the only one in the room that didn't answer, but after a few seconds just approached the bride with a disapproving look. She had felt that something was wrong since the first moment but until now she hadn't understood what it was exactly.

"Do you really intent to go out with that hair?" she asked skeptically, poiting at her sort of hairstyle that clashed completely with the eccentric attire.

Cruella glared at her, but didn't say anything when suddenly she saw a curling iron and some similiar stuff appear out of the blue. And she had spent at least a hour with the hair straightener that morning! It didn't took longer than ten minutes for the young woman to make her own magic: all the hair was united on one side and set in perfect locks, so that black and white could curiously mix and one half of her face was left completely uncovered. A small veil fixed on her head, bound to cover only her eyes and from which three white elegant feathers came out, completed the general – now with a _vintage_ touch - look. Cruella was even more excited: if she could have been a stylist, Lily could have defintely be a hairstylist.

"Oh, darling, you are so talented!" she exclaimed, clapping her gloved hands.

Then she stood up and, throwing a glance to the clock – she was already 35 minutes late –, she grabbed the bouquet of bluebells.

She didn't care of making her own Calvary to the altar, as long as she could have worn that outfit.

* * *

Isaac could have never thanked Belle enough for offering the library as place of the ceremony; at least the beauty of the setting made it up for the scarceness of people. Unconsciously, he had been dreaming about a _Great Gatsby_-like party, but actually it looked more like Gatsby's funeral. The guests could be literally counted on the fingers of two hands: besides the couple, there were: the Golds, Ursula, Maleficent, Lily, Regina, Archie – but only as officiate – and August – as Lily's surprising date.

Maybe if there had been more people, he would have found a way to distract himself, or maybe he would have kept walking back and forth anyway. After all, he was ignoring whatever attempt of conversation made by Rumplestiltskin. Oh, how much he would have liked one of the shots of the previous night! He knew that arriving late was a prerogative of brides, but considering the bride in question, he had feared for a whole quarter of hour that she wouldn't have showed up.

But instead she did: suddenly the unmistakable sound of their car was heard and no more than a minute later he saw her finally make her entrance. She walked the short way from the door to the bancon-altar preceeded by her bridesmaids; they were dressed in purple, but the color was the only thing that his eyes succeeded to grasp. The sight of Cruella silenced any other thought in fact and, even if on her face there was a slightly annoyed expression, there was nothing else than an affectionate look on his one. At every step she took toward him, he was falling in love a bit more and he was feeling to be – maybe paradoxically – the luckiest man on Earth. He liked even the dress: every detail was just like he had imagined and, frankly, he would have been disappointed in front of something more traditional.

"Hello, darling" she greeted him in a whisper, stopping right at his side.

He smiled kindly and then raised a slightly trembling hand toward hers. Their eyes locked for a moment in a sort of aggrement, before they both turned to doctor Hopper. Apparently that man had also gained a license to officiate marriages, besides a fake degree in medicine.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the wedding between Isaac Heller and Cruella De-" Archie started to say, but absent-mindedly, keeping on staring at the bride and in particular at a detail of her outfit. "I'm sorry but… Is my Pongo alright?"

A general laugh filled the room but the next sentence of the woman freezed immediately the atmosphere.

"Oh, yes, don't worry doctor… This fur is two-colored because made up of two different races of dogs"

A long awkward silence followed that answer in fact, and even the villains looked at each other a bit uncomfortably. The only one to speak was Rumple that, approaching more the groom, whispered in a vaguely amused tone: "You are still in time to run, dearie!"

But Isaac had no intention to do that; at that point, it took more than the presumed killing of some dogs to scare him. Instead, he simply invited the doctor with a smile to continue the ceremony and in about twenty minutes they were already pronounced husband and wife. Luckily for them, Lily had succeeded to stop Regina with a glare before she could have answered to the question: "if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, speak now or forever hold his peace"; even if all the people present had at least a couple of reasons – including the broom.

"You may now kiss the bride…"

Isaac grabbed gently the woman's face and, after lifting a bit the veil on her eyes, he hesitated still some moments – maybe too much. In fact, before he could kiss her, it was Cruella the one to attract him to her, claiming a passionate kiss.

"Oh, so sorry darling… I thought _you_ were the bride"

* * *

A beautiful yet simple party was organized at Granny's and, for that occasion, even other nosy townspeople showed up with the excuse of making their wishes to the couple. Neither the bride nor the groom appreciated much the intrusion and so most of the times Cruella got rid of them with an acid comment, faking then a sudden attack of nausea; it was one of the advantage of prengnancy, even if unluckily one of the few ones. There was no throwing of the bouquet, maybe because Belle was already married, Maleficent and Ursula didn't seem toh ave any intention to be in a relationship any soon and on the other hand she didn't root much for Regina and Robin. So, instead, the bride just gave her bluebells to Lily whispering mischievously: "Nice catch the wooden boy!"

Among the guests, the intruders, the food and the headaches – the real ones – the couple didn't have much time for the two of them, but there was still a last meaningful thing to do that day before thinking about the wedding night. In fact, after almost two hours of celebrating, they had to have their first dance yet and, unexpectedly, it was Cruella the one to think about it.

"Cru, everything is ready!" Ursula suddenly exclaimed, winking at her.

She nodded and at that signal she stood up, unexpectedly removing the fur and the heels, before grabbing her now husband's arm.

"Com'on, darling, it's time to dance!"

Isaac hesitated just an instant and it was simply the instant needed to recall the far memory of their very first date. But it was up to the jazz music that started to play, soon joined by the wonderful voice of the bridesmaid, to recreate the atmosphere. Undeniably touched by that little surprise, he finally led her to the centre of the room and they started to dance.

"You know, I was thinking that after all we were meant to get married…" Cruella suddenly whispered, placing her head on his shoulder – thing that the little height difference was now allowing.

Isaac stared at her with widened eyes and for a moment even stopped dancing. There was too much sweetness now: maybe she had drunk some gin in secret, hadn't she?

"Darling, don't look at me like that… Ms de Vil, Mrs Heller, there always _Hell_ in my name don't you see?"

The man shook his head and burst into a laugh. No, she was – maybe unluckily – terribly sober, after all.

"And here I was thinking that you were saying something romantic for once…"

"I'm already _doing _something romantic, you should be satisfied with that!" she hissed back with a reproaching glare.

But that moment of annoyance didn't last long and they kept on dancing for a little longer, following the rhytm of the different songs, soon reached also by the Golds and Lily and August. The only moment of interruption was when mr Gold playfully claimed a dance with the bride, while Belle offered herself to be the broom's partner.

"_I wish it could always be like this_" Isaac let himself escape when they were back to dance together.

Cruella slowly separated from him a bit and looked up. The man had a real obsession for the _Great Gatsby_ and not only they had read the book more and more times, but they had also watched more than once the different movies; therefore it wasn't difficult for her to recognize immediately that sentence as one borrowed from Daisy Fay. And that was also the reason why she knew exactly the answer and she found herself saying it automatically, probably without even udnerstanding the importance of the promise she was making.

"_It will be_"

* * *

**Finally the wedding! I've spent nearly two weeks writing it, because I wanted to focus on every detail I cared about (I won't plan my own wedding like this probably LoL). I hope you liked my choices - the dress, the setting, the guests, the dance, the references to Gatsby, the hints to the other couples! I'd really appreciate some feedback:) **

**About the dress, I really have to thank a very talented girl, Anna, who has made some drawings for Cruella's dress, so the idea of the dress is hers; I will link them as soon as she publishes them on tumblr :) **

**See you soon with the next chapter darlings... I'll focus a bit more about the baby and you'll discover if it's a boy or a girl;)**


	12. Planning with the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 12: Planning with the Devil**

Mr Heller almost woke up with a heart attack that morning. The diabolic chorus that was hammering his ears wasn't a product of a dream in fact, and unavoidably the thing worried him much: he believed to have only _one_ devil at home, after all. However, when ready for work he climbed down the stairs some minutes later, he was relieved to verify that the only physical presence was the one of his wife indeed, while that sabbath-like music was just coming from the radio. He turned it off immediately.

"Oh no, Isaac! Turn it on!" the woman exclaimed, while the cheerful expression was replaced by a hurt one.

But he ignored completely that plea and just glared at her.

"Com'on, darling!" she tried again, standing up from the sofa more slowly than she wanted. "You said yourself that listening to music in pregnancy is a good thing!"

"Of course, but I was talking of Mozart, not Lucifer!"

Cruella widened slightly her mouth, showing herself to be even more hurt now. It was a sort of outrage she couldn't tolerate. "It's _Marylin Mason_, the god of music! Besides it will be good for little deviltoo… It's for an educational purpose!"

The man's reaction was an incredulous laugh, while he started to approach her more, grabbing her hands with an almost ironic gentleness. "Cru, I know we haven't talked openly about this, yet, but I thought we aggreed on not making him raise like the next _Jack the Ripper_!"

"Oh _for a hundred dalmatian puppies_, it's a _boy_!" she exclaimed suddenly exasperated, easily wiggling out of his soft grip. "Frankly, I want to him to grow with a certain amount of masculinity and it might be quite difficult with such a weak example as you are!"

Isaac's astonishment was so much this time that it was not even hidden by an attempt of irony. He was visibly hurt and offended and it was only the sight of the clock at the wall to save him from a not so decent reaction.

"Fine. It's late and I'm going to the newsroom. See you tonight" he said, grabbing the briefcase with his documents and moving to the door.

The moves were quick and the voice cold. It was more this fact that a presumed empathy to suggest to Cruella that maybe she had crossed the line. And suddenly, it was her the one to look for a contact and he the one to deny it.

"Wait, darling… Don't do like this, I meant to say that-"

"Have a nice day, Cruella" he interrupted her brusquely, before glancing one last time at her and close – not so softly – the door behind him.

The woman remained for some moments just staring at the door, feeling a strange regret for how things had ended. But it didn't take more time before a new smile appeared on her face. And the radio was turned on again.

* * *

At evening, it was unusually Cruella the last one to come back home, and she did with an even more unusually happy smile.

"I've got the job!" she simply announced, clapping her hands with the enthusiasm of a child.

It was only thanks to that sincere enthusiasm that Isaac decided to abandon his plan of indifference and instead stood up, leaving his already half eaten pizza.

"I'm so happy for you!" he exclaimed, taking her into his arms. "A little less for Belle…" he added then not too much ironically, thinking about the poor librarian who would have now obtained Cruella's daily help. In fact, he had been the one to almost beg Mrs Gold to hire his wife, but that was a detail he would have omitted.

The woman quickly embraced him back but also quickly broke the contact, just in order to sit in front of her own pizza. She was visibly hungry, but didn't hide a disgusted look when she had her first bite: it was cold _like death_ – and in that moment she didn't like very much the taste of death.

"What do you say about giving a look at this to celebrate?" the man suddenly asked, pulling a piece of paper out of the pocket of his jacket.

Cruella puffed immediately: she didn't need to open it to know what it was about. Since two weeks before they had found out to expect a baby boy, Isaac had done nothing but search and search for names. "There's no much time!" he said – and in the meanwhile there were still three months left before the birth.

"Actually, darling, my idea of celebrating is a bottle of gin and a lot of cherries"

"You already know very well that you can't drink… And we have run out of cherries!" he pointed out, pouring salts into her two current main weak points: withdrawal from alcohol and constant cravings.

She rolled her eyes, but eventually took the paper and gave a look at the list. After the half argument of the morning, it was something she owed him.

_Francis Scott, Ernest, James, Thomas S-_

"Seriously, Isaac, is there some author of the _lost generation_ you have skipped?"

Well, at least he stopped proposing biblical names. Because their son wouldn't have been named _Jacob son of Isaac_ – no chance for that.

"Yes, Ezra Pound! I never liked him that much… Besides, what kind of name is _Ezra_?"

"Actually, I not even see _the importance of being Ernest_" Cruella commented, smiling amusingly calling in Oscar Wilde.

Isaac slightly chuckled for the joke, but didn't let the topic fall though. "What about Francis Scott, then? It's an elegant, refined name and-" suddenly he stopped as if stroke by an inspiration. "Why don't we call him directly _Fitzgerald_?"

"Uhm, yes, Fitzgerald Heller sounds nice!" she exclaimed and his enthusiasm seemed to have infected her as well. "And then we can call him Fitz for short! _Fitz, Fitz_… It looks like the name of a dog!"

Isaac glared at her. "There's no need to be so acid… If you don't like it, just say it!"

"No, but I intened it as a positive thing" she clarified, folding the paper and giving him an innocent look.

The man shook his head but smiled again. "Okay then… I like it, you like it… Let's see if he likes it too." And placed his hand on the so far evident belly.

It should have been a sweet but formal gesture and thefore he wasn't ready for what he actually felt at the contact. The baby was in fact kicking and it didn't just mean that he approved Fitzgerald as a name, but also that he had finally decided to show himself to his parents. It was the first time that Isaac was feeling those movements and he had been so worried by that late that he had searched in every book about pregnancy and asked reassurances to doctor Whale more than once.

"Oh my God, Cru! He's kicking, finally!"

But Cruella simply looked at him confused. "Really? It happens quite often actually… I thought it was a signal of my stomach for the cravings!" she exclaimed with a disarming naivety. "What?" she asked then, noticing his incredulous expression.

"How the hell did you not realize it? It's not possible!"

And while Isaac was passing from incredulity to a sort of scorn, Cruella passed even more quickly from confusion to complete annoyance.

"I understand that it would have never happen to you, but I didn't realize it, okay? We both know that you are the _mother material_ one and you know what? You should have been a bloody _sea horse, _so I didn't have to do anything but spawn – or whatever those little animals do!"

At the end of that vent, the woman was standing up and pointing her finger against the man, who, in spite of everything, felt the only instinct to burst into a laugh. And it was a pity, because until the reference to sea horses, she could have been taken seriously.

"Now, I'm going upstairs and play _Angry Birds_… And unless you don't want to make me even angrier, you should fecth me some cherries!"

"But Cruel-"

"I said cherries, _little_ _sea horse_!"

Before he could reply, the woman disappeared already from the room. Left alone, Isaac finally laughed freely; however he didn't loose much time before standing up in order to pay a visit to the greengrocer of the town. Absurd comparisons or not, he knew she got him on a string and he didn't mind – he _never_ minded that at all, after all.

* * *

**So... Fitzgerald is coming! I hope to have not disappointed you with a baby boy, but I just had the perfect name already LoL Hope you liked this chapter as well;) I myself like to write this story more and more each chapter and I have to thank you for the kind reviews that keep me going;)**

**Oh, and I link here Anna's wonderful drawings for Cruella's dress: **** post/121534820225/these-are-the-sketches-i-did-for-the-amazing-and**

**See you soon!**


	13. Giving birth to the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 13: Giving birth to Little Devil**

In spite of what Cruella loved to say to Isaac, her new job wasn't stressful at all; quite the contrary it was almost just a way to spend her time. Because of her pregnant condition, she was even dismissed from carrying the books and so she basically remained behind the counter reading, teasing from time to time her employer and welcoming the clients. And oddly enough, the usual visitors showed up less, while the villains seemed to have discovered their love for literature.

Instead, between the company of Mrs Heller and the one even less pleasant of the new kind of clients, those three months had been really stressful for Belle. And the last day revealed to be the worst of all. In fact, after having opened two boxes of new arrivals and placed them on the right shelves, she realized that she hadn't taken with her the missing book of Harry Potter saga.

"Cruella, would you be so kind to bring me the book on the counter?" she asked in the most cordial tone possible – cordiality all suggested by her tiredness.

The other woman dared to puff anyway, but however after some whispered protests, she stood up and did as asked.

"I'm a pregnant woman, darling! Does it look right to you making me carry such _heavy _burdens?" she complained when she finally reached her. Even if she was actually holding it with a single hand and even using it as a fan.

Belle, still turned to the shelf, felt free to roll her eyes. "It's a paperback of 293 pages!" she pointed out, letting transpire a slight annoyance this time.

However when she finally turned around, her eyes widened immediately as she remained for some moments breathless, simply pointing at the floor. Cruella looked at her confused and she was already about to make some sharp questions when, following the direction of her finger, she found herself having the same reaction. They remained like that for a while, paralyzed and shocked, until suddenly they both started yelling – in spite of the library's rule of silence -, while _Harry Potter and the philosopher's stone_ fell on the floor, right in the little puddle of water at the centre of their attention.

"Oh my God, Cruella, your waters have just broken! I have to take you to the hospital!" Belle exclaimed, showing her rationality despite the great panic.

The new mommy seemed to have entered a state of trance instead. Apparently numb to physical pain and psychological fear, she simply followed the other woman in the parking, probably planning not to talk until the sight of doctor Whale. But the sight of something else forced her to break that intention before.

"Oh no, darling, we can't take my car! I don't want my leather seats to get dirty!" she started, slightly disgusted at the thought. "Let's take your husband's one… Look, there are even the keys!" added then, referring to Rumplestiltskin's car parked exactly near hers.

Belle hesitated some instants, but in the end let the sense of need overcome her doubts. In less than a minute she helped the other to sit on the passenger seat while she sat in front of the steering wheel. It was there that she had another moment of hesitation and, when she finally decided to start driving, it became finally clear the reason of all that uncertainty. Coming out the parking lot, she almost hit Cruella's car – almost causing her a early delivery -; during the travel then, she risked to run over more than one pedestrian, ignored completely the traffic signals and the engine turned off more than once.

"Wooo, darling, now I'm actually starting to like you more!" Mrs Heller exclaimed, watching almost with pride the audacious driving.

"I'm sorry" the younger woman replied instead. "The point is that I don't have a driver's license!"

After that confession, Belle dared to look away from the road for a moment, preparing herself to receive the reaction. She expected a reproach, a scream or even – considering the kind of person she was dealing with – a laugh; but yet she remained surprised anyway.

In fact Cruella looked just confused and after some moments she simply asked: "_What the hell is a driver's license_?"

* * *

As soon as they arrived to the hospital, Cruella was laid on a bed and carried to the labor room. She was completely awakened from her confusional state now and, starting to feel the contractions more and more painful, she showed a totally human reaction: as every woman in a similar situation she started in fact to curse her own husband, and, exactly as every human being in the moment of need, she didn't want to remain alone. That's why she almost sequestred Belle and even promised her to be appointed godmother of the baby in exchange for a support.

In the meanwhile Isaac, after abandoning quickly the job, remained outside the room alone and he was on the edge of having a heart attack. Actually, he would have really liked to attend the birth of his son, but after a long argument he had promised not to.

If Cruella was acting like a normale mother, Isaac was acting like a normal father – even if, contrary to the average father, he had read many times _Farewells to Arms_ by Hemingway. "_Don't let her die. Please, please, please don't let her die_": for the second time those thoughts were echoing in his mind and this time the situation was more appropriated actually, since even in the book it was all about a beloved woman and a son.

However only after a couple of hours, when he heard the loud crying of a baby and the well-known voice of his wife, he could verify that he had had surely more luck than Friedrich Henry.

* * *

"He's really beautiful…"

It was at least three times that Isaac said that sentence, but he just couldn't find any other words to describe the wonder he had in his arms in that moment – a wonder that looked exactly like him. In his life he had been author of many things: fairytale plot twists, articles, not famous books and poems locked in a drawer; but yet, he had never imagined to be the author of such a miracle. Even if it was a _four-handed written_ miracle, actually.

"I was hoping he had your blue eyes…" he admitted anyway, looking for a moment at his wife.

Laying on the bed, tired and in a confuse state of emotions, Cruella gave him a weak smile. "Even my hair – the real one – would have been a good inheritance" she added in a tone between nostalgia and humor. But it was only saying the next sentence that her voice definetly slipped into bitterness. "Honestly, I hope he also has your _heart_, darling."

The man looked at her again, this time sadly and just approached her, sitting at her side. He understood completely the implication and also the connected fear; however, he didn't share it: on the contrary, he was convincted that baby Fitzgerald would have grown in the best possible way and that even Cruella would have been healed by that strange madness she had had since for ever. As an author, he couldn't not believe that everyone could write his own story, after all.

"Have you held him yet?" he asked after some minutes of heavy silence. "Do you want to?" he added then, when she saw her shaking her head.

But Cruella shook her head again. Fitzgerald was really a beautiful baby and he was clearly enjoying being in his father's arms, therefore there was no reason to interrupt that calm. They had been forced to live together for nine months, but now would have she been able to continue that relationship for at least other eighteen years more?

"I'm not ready…" she just whispered, looking away.

The truth was that she feared she never would have been.

* * *

**Chapter 13 is up and baby Fitz is born:) Now I can say that there are only 4/5 more chapters left.**

**If you are interested, I've started a collection of one-shots about the Heller-DeVil family (sort of missing moments of this story); the title is: "A family with a great story" and you can find it on my profile:)**

**Also, I've created a group on facebook for Authella fans - even if for now we are really few -, if you want, anyone is welcomed to join us! It's called: "Authella [Isaac/Cruella] Fans".**

**See you soon with chapter 14!**


	14. Changing the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 14: Changing the Devil**

Mood disorder, nervousness, absence of interest for the newborn: it was hard to diagnose a post-partum depression when it came to Cruella. Surely though her apparent total lack of maternity was slightly worrying. In fact, after three weeks since Fitzgerald's birth, she hadn't spent longer than five minutes alone with him and – even more worryingly – she hadn't held him in her arms yet, not even once. Isaac took care of everything: changing the diapers, feeding him, putting him to sleep; and when he wasn't there, it was Belle or Maleficent to play the part of surrogate mom. Cruella wasn't jealous, but the strange sense of inadequacy was wearing her out. Actually, she tried more than once to approach the crib and remained to rock it, staring at the baby with a naive curiosity; however, every time a sort of repulsion prevented her from doing more.

Maybe it was the repulsion for responsibility, for love or, more simply, for life.

"The baby is asleep…" Isaac announced one evening, entering their bedroom.

Cruella, already in bed, just nodded. She watched him undressing and laying down at her side: his tiredness was evident and for a moment she asked herself if he was happy of his life.

"How are you?"

The question escaped her lips unexpectedly and she herself didn't know if it was guilty, curiosity or an unusual apprehension to make her talk.

Isaac looked surprise, but soon hinted a weak smile. "I'm fine" he replied with a conviction that maybe he didn't really have, and moved his arm to attract her more to himself.

The woman put her head on his chest and let him hold her, but the strange mix of feeling inside her didn't lessen at all, on the contrary it became even more confused. In his arms she felt safe, protected, even understood, but yet at that contact a certain hate appeared as well. A part of her hated him because he loved her too much; because despite everything he didn't hate her, not even a little. With those thoughts in mind and those feeling in the heart, she silently waited in that position, until she felt his breath become heavier and his fingers stop to caress her hair. Cautiously, she separated from him and casted a look to check: he was asleep, indeed.

Only then, she stood up and reached her little corner of needlework, preparing herself to focus on her son without being close to him: by making him a blanket.

* * *

It was already past two and the blanket was just finished: it was white, spotted in dalmatian style and with a red F in a corner; she wanted that it talked to him about her somehow and at least she had succeded in that.

After a last satisfied look to her work, Cruella finally headed to the bed, but right when she was about to slip into the sheets, he heard an unmistakable loud crying coming from the next room. An annoyed snort escaped her mouth instinctively, as istinctively she turned to Isaac with the intention of waking him up; however, the hand she had moved to shake him, suddenly stopped. Instead, she sat up, put the slippers on, grabbed the blanket and it was her the one to show up at the crib. Another instinct had won, maybe the _maternal_ one.

"You are really a little devil, aren't you?" she asked, while she stared at the little face growing more and more red and almost shining into the half dark of the room.

She used an annoyed tone, but the voice trembled, revealing more fear and helplessness than she wanted to admit to herself. She didn't mind the yells actually, but she knew she had to calm him down and she just didn't know how. So, she started to rock the crib, tried to say something and then even put the blanket beside him. It smelt like her and maybe for that reason, the baby grabbed it immediately, not stopping his crying though; clearly, he had recognized it was a fake: an empty essence was not what he wanted. He seemed disappointed, but so seemed Cruella and perhaps it was that feeling the one to lead her to look for a contact for the first time. Suddenly she _wanted_ him to stop crying.

"Fitzgerald, tell me, what do you want?" she asked hesitantly, but in the meanwhile her hands had already reached him.

With an unpredictable naturalness, she raised him into her arms and held him against her chest. He was so little, so fragile and she was afraid to hurt him, but yet at the same time she was sure she would have never been able to do that – not only because of some magical ink. The crying had weakened, but it wasn't gone yet, so she started to rock him softly and, without realizing it, started to sing.

_"Sweet dreams are made of this..._

_Everybody is looking for something"_

The song, in spite of the deceiving words, was not perfect as a lullaby and her voice wasn't pleasant at all; and yet in less than a minute, every tear was gon and Fitzgerald was even smiling. Cruella couldn't help but smile in return, keeping on singing, at least until she realized that her "audience" had grown. Right at the door, there was in fact her husband with a soft and a bit amused expression on his face.

"Did the crying wake you up, darling?" she asked, looking up at him and trying in the meantime to hide any emotion.

"No, actually it was your _sweet_ singing voice"

She glared at him and then looked immediately back at her son. "He's smiling…"

Isaac just nodded; after so much reading before Fitzgerald's birth, he knew very well that it was a reflex and that it was too soon for a real smile. But he didn't say that, though: there was no reason to ruin that magical moment and the only thing he could do was being a part of it, even if for a short while. That was why he approached them, just the time to hold the baby's hand and place a kiss on his wife's cheek.

"I'm going back to bed… You take care of him, don't you?" he asked rhetorically with slight irony, starting to leave.

"Isaac?" she called him back though. "What the hell have you done to me?"

He looked at her for some moments in confusion. He knew that the question wasn't about some particular event, but more about the general transformation that had affected her in a year. But there wasn't an answer: she had been the one to gradually start to change and she was still changing, day by day, letting her long denyed light emerge from the darkness. He hadn't done anything, except maybe a small little thing.

"I just loved you" he eventually replied, making a smile.

Cruella's expression was instead deadly serious; maybe it was for the lack of sleep or for the magic of the moment, but suddenly she said the most unpredictable sentence.

"_Don't ever stop, then, darling"_

* * *

**Here it is part 14! Too much fluff? I was asked by more than one person to write something where Cruella held her son for the first time, so I hope that you liked this chapter!:) ****Besides, the scene was I described was inspired by Anna's new drawings of Cruella and her baby (too bad, I don't know how to link them at the moment!:/).**

** See you next week (hopefully) with part 15!**


	15. Defeating the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 15: Defeating the Devil **

A year was passed since Fitzgerald's birth and the things had slowly taken a sort of normality: Isaac had began again his job at the "Daily Mirror", Cruella her own at the library and both were still learning the new one as parents. The only notable news was that the woman had finally decided to start her own business as dressmaker, choosing the nursery as set of the atelier. She had bought some furniture and already decided the new disposal; the project was more than ready, it was just a matter of putting it into effect. However, when on the preset day of the trasformation Isaac came home, he found everything unchanged and – more alarming thing – his wife sitting on a chair with the lost expression typical of a drunk state. It took just one quick glance to verify the absence of alcohol though, and on the contrary the presence of their lively son unusually completely asleep. Maybe she had got _him_ drunk – it was always a possibility.

"My love, what happened? August didn't pass by?" he started cautiously, referring to her previous accord with the former wooden boy.

That hypothesis was the only one possible in his mind; the evidently lacking help could have been the only reason why she would have changed her mind, and, unavoidably, he was already preparing himself to hear an agry vent. Instead, Cruella simply shook her head, even if she still looked irritated for something and the way she glared at him confirmed it.

"Well, it would be pretty useless to demolish everything when we'll need it again in less than nine months… Don't you think darling?"

Isaac took some moments to understand and when he did, he still wasn't sure if he had understood right. "Cruella, are-are you saying that-"

"Yes, I'm pregnant!" she interrupted him abruptly, ending the exclamation with a loud and annoyed puff. "And don't hold back that stupid smile of yours… Go on, smile, darling!"

Actually, he really wanted to smile and in more than a sense. Ironically, thinking about how "little" mother material his wife was; happily at the idea of becoming father again; proudly at the prospect of his little family growing. And yet, all that came out of him was an almost bitter smile, while he bent on the knees in order to look at her in the eyes.

"Are you okay with this?" he asked her soflty, moving a hand to caress her cheek.

Cruella instictively looked up to the sky, but when she looked back at him for some moments, she found herself nodding and, surprisingly, it was her the first to hint a sincere smile.

After all – apart from morning sickness, delivery pains and withdrawal from gin – she didn't mind that much the idea of having another child.

* * *

The second pregnancy was more easy, but the delivery was on the contrary more exhausting; the baby girl ended up being in a difficult position and, since Mrs Heller's firm rejection of a Cesarean, the doctor had to turn her manually. Cruella swore she had never felt a worst pain than that, but yet it was another the particular that made that birth an almost terrible moment - and another the emotion: not physical pain, but that so much hated fear.

"I can't hear her crying… Why she isn't crying? Will you answer me, you fools?"

The scared nurse tried to mumble an answer, but before she could, a weak and short crying was heard in the room, reassuring the new mommy more than any words.

"Clearly this princess's mother screams already enough for both!" doctor Whale dared to joke, approaching slowly the bed with the baby in his arms.

Since the coldness toward the firstborn, the intent was to show her and nothing more. Instead the woman managed to surprise everyone: strangely ignoring the joke, she moved her arms to take her daughter and then lovingly held her against her chest.

In that moment she looked like a normal mother, a normal woman able to cry and smile, suffer and love. She was a _normal human being_. The doctor and the nurse exchanged a surprised look in front of the unexpected scene, which they were the only witnesses of. At least for now; a call from Whale to his wife Ruby would have in fact been enough to inform all Storybrooke about that official sign of _unwilling redemption_.

* * *

Anita Heller proved to be a little Cruella, only physically though: the blonde hair and the blue eyes didn't match in fact a secret attraction to darkness, on the contrary she was even afraid of the dark. She was a very sweet child and in short time she won over all the town, but first of all her father Isaac, while Cruella had always a bigger soft spot for Fitzgerald anyway. Despite the little unavoidable favoritisms, both revelaed to be great parents: they made grow their children happy and they were happy too. _She_ was happy too. In spite of how ordinary and full of responsibilities that kind of life was, she was happy of it and there were some moments she fully realized that. For example, one evening she hesitated some minutes at the children' door after putting them to sleep and she couldn't help but smile at the sight of them: the lively Fitzgerald totally worn-out and the sweet Anita with the light of the abat-jour on. She was no mother material or so she had always thought, but now she couldn't imagine her life without those two little brats. Actually, it was with that unexpected role as mother that she had finally understood the deep meaning of life and how much it was more beautiful than anything death could have offered.

"It took time to make them sleep, uh?"

Even though the woman was lost in her thoughts, she didn't jump hearing the voice at her back, but almost as expecting Isaac's arrival, she just leaned her head on his shoulder and let his arms embrace her from behind.

"Only the time to read half _The Little Prince_ to Anita… I believe Fitz fell asleep pretty quickly out of desperation" she answered with a tone between tiredness and amusement.

Isaac slightly chuckled imagining the usual argument between the kinds for the choice of the goodnight reading. But he soon grew serious anyway and put aside some of her hair to place a light kiss on her neck. "I love you so much, Cru…" he whispered in her ear, before holding her again.

Cruella didn't answer, as she never did and as she would have probably never done, but she let herself go to that embrace. They remained like that for some moments, one against the other looking at the two beautiful creatures they had together given life to, until she suddenly broke the contact and turned to look at the man.

"Thank you" she murmured, kissing him quickly on the lips.

"For what?

"For writing me a happy ending"

And she smiled at him, giving him the most sincere and beautiful smile she had ever made. For that smile and for those words, he almost felt as if he were the one who should have thanked, because he was finally having an aknowledgement of his love and hearing the most similiar thing to an "I love you" she could have ever said.

Finally he won the challenge he had bet all his life on: letting her see that love was more worthy than a mad homicide fury.

_The devil wasn't gone, but it had been defeated._

* * *

**With this chapter, this story is officially the longest one I've ever written both in Italian and in English, so yay for me! When I planned the story, this one was in my head the final chapter, so if you want you can consider this the end of "Loving the Devil". But then somewhere along the story, I had another idea and I just can't ignore my inspiration. So, if at your own risk, you want to follow me for two more chapters, PREPARE A LOT OF TISSUES, because I'm not done with angst... Don't hate me please, but "every story needs a sparkle of magic, something unexpected" or so Isaac says LoL**

**Thanks you all for the support like always!:)**


	16. Living without the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 16: Living without the Devil**

* * *

No one – first of all Cruella and maybe not even Isaac himself – really believed that their marriage would have gone so well, and yet time proved them wrong. Not only that bet of love had been won, but the earning had been bigger than expected. Fitzgerald opened a centre of tattoos and moved to live with his girlfriend Nicky – Rumple and Belle's daughter -; instead Anita finally decided to leave town for college, trying to make the most of her talent as writer. The children had grown up and the house was suddenly empty: it was an addition of a melancholy taste, but however for Cruella it had only a possible result – a result that involved an extremely alluring lace lingerie and a whip. And that same night of Anita's leaving, she decided to play that kind of maths.

"Isaac, darling…" she whispered, in a clearly mischievous tone, from the doorjamb. But when she found herself repeating that simple call for three times without gaining an answer, the tone quickly turned into an irritated one.

Unaware of those intentions, Isaac was in fact half lied down on the bed with a book in the hands and the abat-jour pointed on his face; it wasn't an unusual scene, but Cruella was determined not to surrender to their boring evening routine, not even now that time was passing – at least for him. With an unexpected rapidity, she reached him and, after sitting with legs astride on him, she tried to take abruptly the book from him, certain to see at least a reaction.

"Hey, what are you doing, Cru?" he asked, in fact, confused and even unavoidably annoyed.

But when, looking up, he saw his wife with that outfit on, it was him the one to let the big volume of _Notre Dame de Paris_ fall on the ground. That simple vision was promising much more than what Victor Hugo's evocative descriptions could have offered. A mischievous smile appeared on his lips as well, while he let his eyes linger on her body: thanks to the power of Lily's egg, she hadn't aged a single day and, therefore, she was exactly as the day he had promised her to love her in the right way; or actually, she was even more beautiful because now her appeal was enriched with a certain tenderness.

"It was damn time you left that damn book… I was afraid I had to use the whip earlier…" she commented, rolling her eyes.

Isaac gave her an amused smile, but when he glanced at the just mentioned object, that smile turned into an apparently worried expression. "You know, actually I'm a bit scared of being left alone with you…"

Cruella let out a smirk. "I warn you, darling: everyday will be like this, until our death". And then she kissed him in an almost angry way.

Despite the initial surrender, the man was quite quick to grab her by the hips in order to slightly distance her from him. "Maybe speaking of death is arousing for you, but not for me" he started to say in an ironic tone, which faded soon in bitter though. "I don't even want to think about losing you, I don't think I could bear it".

It wasn't unusual for the author to wear his heart on his sleeves, but yet that time she didn't feel bothered and actually remained to look at him for a while with some sort of sorrow in her eyes – before she suddenly chuckled, of course.

"Don't worry, darling. I promise to let you die first" she replied – not too much – playfully, placing a new kiss on his lips, but this time more gently.

And then they made love all night, as if it were _the_ _last time_.

* * *

Too soon it turned out that Cruella was no good at keeping promises.

One week later that short nighttime conversation, while they were still having their second honeymoon, she woke up with the unusually loving idea of passing at Granny's to take something to eat for breakfast, and so she left with the promise of a double chocolate muffin. However, when more than a half hour later she still wasn't back home, Isaac started to worry, even more after several phone calls without answer. At least until twenty minutes and seven attempts more.

"Hey Cru, what happened? I got worried to dea-"

But the sigh of relief stopped in his throat as soon as he realized that the voice on the other side did not belong to his wife.

"Isaac, it's Emma… There has been an accident…_ I'm so sorry"_

Those three simple words were more than enough to let Isaac understand that the muffin was not the only promise to be broken. He closed the phone immediately and let the cup of coffee fall on the ground without absolute care; then suddenly he started crying. It's common opinion that before dying you see all the most important moments of your life; while he was asking himself if in his wife's ones had starred him or a gun, it was himself the one to relive the instants of their life together. Without any filter of importance though: they were coming all together – the key events and the meaningless details – and ammassing on his chest almost preventing him from breathing. The most awful thing was not that trick of his memory, but the awareness that, at the end of that mindl trip, death wouldn't have come. No, even if his heart was broken and his life had suddenly lost its essence, he wouldn't have died.

Even that pain was a part of the life Cruella had given him.

* * *

As Emma told later, Cruella's dangerous driving finally proved to be fatal and the clash with Grumpy's new van killed her on the spot. Maybe she didn't even have the time to relive her best moments, after all. Apart from some nosy people, Fitzgerald was the second to be informed and at first he didn't react better than his father: he locked himself into his shop and when Nicky found him, he saw him for the first time in tears. She was the only one to see him in those conditions though, because the young man, trying to hold on to his usual pragmatism, soon decided to take care of everything: from sharing the news to organizing the funeral. However, neither his remarkable strenght nor Anita immediate return managed to awake Isaac from the state of trance he had fallen into.

At the funeral his pain showed at the worst, maybe because only in that moment he realized that of a live in black and white, now there was elft only the _black_. He refused the best he could the contact with anyone else and even to see the corpse; he wanted to live still in denial or perhaps he was just angry – toward himself, the others, Cruella herself. In fact, If he had seen her now, he would have probably wanted to kiss her, following that hope so glorified by the heroes; but he he knew that despite the deep love he felt for her and the one that he had managed to make her feel as well, a kiss wouldn't have been enough to bring her back. And so he remained mostly alone, still reliving those shared moments which now he was the only wintness of. After the vain attempt of August and Lily, no one else - apart from his kids - tried to approach him, at least until late evening when a hand was placed on his shoulder and, turning around, he found a well-known bitter smile in front of him.

"I know your love for her has been your life and I also know that she loved you too… But now you have to let her go and move on… _As I did_"

In spite of his will of loneliness, he listened to all that short speech and in the end his look lost any trace of hostiliy, especially hearing the last part. Belle Gold was still in grief for her husband's death six months before and so she was probably the only person in the whole world who could understand what it meant to love a person completely wrapped up in darkness. And most of all what it meant to_ lose_ her then.

That was the reason why, in the end, the words escaped his mouth with an unexpected naturalness. "I don't think I can do this…"

Belle gave him a glance full of empathy, but she didn't offer him the surrender that he seemed to desire. "But you have to. You have to be strong for them". And she just hinted toward Fitzgerald, who was currently shaking Emma Swan's hand, and Anita, who was instead crying in the arms of the other Charmings' son.

Unavoidably a weak smile appeared on Isaac's lips: a loving and proud smile, but not a convinced one.

It would have been difficult to move on when every memory was pushing him back.

It would have been difficult to learn to _live without the devil_, when she had been the one who taught him how to live in the first place.

* * *

**I know, this is not what you probably expected *goes to hide herself*. But, I felt like this was how the end was supposed to be: after a life lived loving the devil, it was right that Isaac discovered what was _living_ without the devil too, because despite everything, I've always considered him the real protagonist of the story. Apart from your probable desire to kill me (LOL), I hope you liked my choice and I really want to read your opinion. Now there is only one chapter left!**

**On a side note: I've opened a poll about which Authella story should I write after this one is over. If you want to choose one of the plots I've thought about, please go to vote on my profile; instead if you want to suggest me something else, you can PM me:)**


	17. Remembering the Devil

**Loving the Devil**

**Part 17: Remembering the Devil**

Starting to live again was hard, but not impossible; Isaac tried hard and, trying for real, he succeeded– at least for a while. Cruella's absence was getting more and more painful every day, but at the same time he realized that apart from her there was something else left. There was Fitzgerald and Anita, the friends he had made and a whole town always in ferment: around him, there was Life itself and, through a sort of strange osmosis, a breath of that life was slowly penetrating him too. Besides, living meant also to keep her memory alive and, he knew, no one could have done it better.

Therefore, he kept carrying on, day after day, until days turned into months and months into years; even though he didn't really belong to life, he remained there to slightly touch it and dive into it from time to time. He lived long enough to see the birth of her first granddaughter – whose name was the curious and familiar one of _Ella Heller_ – and to lead her daughter to the altar; it was maybe then that, at the peak of happiness, he understood that his duty was somehow getting to an end.

"Do you really love Anita?"

He had waited for the celebration at Granny's to ask that question at the now husband of her daughter. Neal Nolan was surely taken by surprise, but yet he didn't hesitate not even a moment before nodding.

"Of course I love your daughter, Mr Heller, I love her more than anything else and I'm going to protect her always" he answered, in a solemn tone. "You don't have to worry, now I'll be the one to take care of her…"

Isaac looked at him in silence for a while and, only after hearing that last sentence, he looked completely satisfied. An enigmatic and also bitter smile appeared on his face, but Neal would have understood the meaning of it only some days later. Without knowing it, he had just given exactly the needed answer.

* * *

_Broken heart syndrome_: that was apparently the reason of Isaac's death, even if it wasn't doctor Whale's scientific diagnosis, but actually Mary Margaret's poetic one. Anita and Fitzgerald accepted it anyway; the autopsy didn't reveal anything concrete after all, while instead the pain he was still feeling for his wife was evident to everyone. And it was actually really poetic: rather than surrendering to death, he had slowly let himself die; rather than abandoning his children, he had fought for them as long as he could. Cruella had had the sudden way out of the world as she would have liked it, and so did Isaac.

In spite of that loneliness the man had always felt in life, there was almost the whole Storybrooke attending his funeral; however, the day after at the cemetery in order to give him a last goodbye, there were just his two kids and an unknown four-legs friend. And it was exactly that puppy to offer the excuse to break the painful silence.

"Mommy would have liked it…" Fitzgerald commented in fact, looking for a moment away from the tomb – and _thinking away_ from the reason they were there.

"No, she wouldn't. She would have preferred her as a fur…" Anita echoed him with an unavoidable half smile, but that apparent irony lasted short and her face grew soon serious. "Me and Neal found her last night… I called her _Perdita_… In italian it means _loss_, you know?"

The yound man just nodded and then extended an arm toward his sister, attracting her to him. They remained like that, one in the arms of the other for a while, as holding on to the remainders of a family they were the only one left of.

"It will be alright, little diamond…" he whispered, using that same nickname Cruella was used to call her with.

He placed a loving kiss on her blonde hair and then let her go. As suddenly remembering something, he put a hand into his jacket and pulled it out only at the end of his search, along with a curious particular. It was a napkin casually found on some bookshelf, a napkin stained by red lipstick, a napkin whose story wentlost in time. Not needing for any explanation, he gave an eloquent look to the woman and then bent on his kness, placing it on the gravestone.

When he stood up again, Fitzgerald took a step back, as to contemplate better the scene and Anita soon did the same. It was a really good scene: that was the only bitter comment that came into their minds, as they both were saying silently goodbye to the people that loved them more in the whole world.

One single elegant marmoreal tomb, a storm of white bluebells – as Cruella would have liked it – and that napkin on one end of it – following Isaac's tacit will. At the centre there was the unavoidable written: _Isaac and Cruella Heller – belve parents_. They would have rested together at least phisically, in an afterlife where he would have kept loving her unconditionally and she would have still got angry with him for some casual reason.

Anyway, there was something both of them would have agreed on, and it was the italic written half hidden by the flowers that the children had decided to add at the last minute.

"S_o we beat on, boats against the current_, _borne back ceaselessly into the past_"

_**THE END**_

* * *

_**OMG, We have arrived at the last chapter. I'm actually sad and at the same time proud to write the words "the end" to this story.. I want to thank all the people who followed/favourited/reviewed or just read, it's really thanks to your support if I kept writing. I hope you liked it as much as I did, and also that the end didn't disappoint you. **_

_**By the way, the final sentence is the final sentence of "The Great Gatsby" and I couldn't help but play with the Italian meaning of "Perdita" - Anita had to have the dalmatian, right?**_

_**I'll try to write some new stories for this amazing ship; in the meanwhile I'll kept writing "A family with a great story", a collection that talks about some fact I left unsaid here in "Loving the Devil".**_

_**A hug for everyone from Italy, love you all!**_

_**LadyPalma**_


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